La Reata
by Shellecah
Summary: Feeling neglected, Chester faces the attentions of a maiden lady and a bout with pneumonia one bleak winter, while Matt and Kitty renew a troubled courtship.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Near the dawn of planting season, the midday sky over Dodge glimmered with feeble grayish-blue light, like cadaverous skin. Dry and windless yet frigid, the air cut to the marrow when a body stood still beyond a short spell.

Farmers sold firewood in town, drove their emptied wagons to Grimmick's livery, went to Delmonico's for lunch and stopped by The Long Branch for beer or whiskey, while Moss gave their horses a rubdown and hot mash. He kept a thick padding of clean straw in the stalls, and the stove hot.

Chester huddled at the stove, rubbing his hands in the warmth. "Buck's in the corner stall, if he's who you come for," said Moss.

"Huh?" said Chester. He looked blank, his face strained.

"Does Matt need Buck?" said Moss.

" _Oh._ No," said Chester. "Mr. Dillon's doin' his report writin'. He cain't be bothered ta play checkers."

"Is that why you come?" said Moss. "I don't have time, today, Chester."

"Can I help you out here, Moss?"

"Nope. I get it done faster, myself.

"Howdy, Miss Whitaker." Moss tipped his hat as a tall slender lady approached.

"Hello, Moss. Hello, Chester." Madelyn Whitaker always smiled when she saw Chester. At forty years old, with sharp delicate features and a thin mouth, Madelyn was not pretty, though her affable bearing and the kindness in her pale brown eyes made her face agreeable.

"Miss Madelyn." He tugged his hat brim. No one had looked in his eyes the day long, much less smiled at him, and as the heat from Moss's stove blanketed Chester, warmth cleared the leaden fog in his head and melted the hollow belly chill that had nothing to do with hunger or cold.

"There ya go," said Moss, patting Chester's back.

Madelyn let out a soft laugh. "I'm going riding on Prue, Moss," she said.

"Yes, ma'am," said Moss. "I'll get 'er saddled up."

Madelyn stood by Chester at the stove, and pulled down the hood of her woolen cloak. She wore her hair combed smoothly into a chignon with no loose tendrils or curls, and her fair complexion was unblemished, almost translucent.

She pulled off her gloves and held her hands over the stove. "I like riding when it's frosty out," said Madelyn. "It's so invigorating. Of course, it's much nicer with company. The winter prairie _is_ desolate. There's a melancholy beauty about it too, don't you think, Chester?"

Chester didn't think the prairie beautiful in wintertime, and the thought of riding made him shuddery. "It's cold for ridin'. Ain't snowin', though, leastways. Prairie's like a big grave when it snows," he said reflectively.

"You won't want to go with me, then," said Madelyn. "Don't worry, I'm not asking you. Oh, here's my Prue. All set to go." She took the mare's bridle from Moss.

Chester wished she'd stay and chat. With the cattle drives stopped and bandits holed up for the winter, he calculated that Miss Kitty and Doc and Mr. Dillon would have a heap of time to set by the stove, talking and drinking coffee, but things hadn't turned that way. Miss Kitty had a passel of friends visiting since Christmas, Doc was always out on calls or treating the sick and injured in his office, and Mr. Dillon used the long quiet hours to catch up on his report writing.

Madelyn touched her palm to Chester's face, and let go of Prue's bridle while she slipped on her gloves. "They should make time for you," she said, a faint crinkle between her sparse brows. "They should see to it. Your friends."

Chester felt a twinge of alarm. "Oh, they make time for me when they have it, Miss Madelyn," he said.

"Well, if they don't have it," she said with her soft genteel cadence, "they need to find it. I wish you'd come visit me at Ma Smalley's, Chester. Any time. I get lonely, too."

Chester met her sympathetic gaze, and wondered at virtuous ladies like Miss Madelyn, who knew how a body fared when he said nary a word about his feelings. "Bye, Chester," she said.

"Bye, Miss Madelyn." He watched as she pulled up her hood, led her mare out of the stable, mounted and rode away over the ashen prairie. Chester thought of the freezing ground, and a shiver rippled through him. He didn't understand why she chose to ride off alone, going nowhere.

Carrying two tin cups, Moss appeared beside Chester at the stove. "Coffee's ready," said Moss. "I boiled it with chicory root." He wrapped a cloth around the coffee pot handle, and poured two cups.

Moss made good strong coffee. Chester sipped it, looking at Moss, who set his mind to say something cheering. "Recollect the blue sunflower atop the chicory root, blooming in summer?" he said.

"Why d'you s'pose she wants ta ride to herself in the cold, Moss," said Chester. "Miss Madelyn."

"She told me once it helps her ponder things," said Moss. "What'd she say . . . let's see. The barrenness puts it all in . . . per-spec-tive, and she's more thankful when she returns to her comfortable warm room at Ma's. Don't ask me what she means, cuz I don't know. Curious it came to memory at all."

"Book-learned lady like Miss Madelyn, talks high-minded betimes," said Chester. "Takes figurin' hard to know the drift of her sayings."

"I wouldn't try. It might bust somethin' loose in your head.

"Looks like business slowed some," said Moss. "I best tidy up before they start comin' in again."

"Sure I can't help, Moss?"

"Yep."

"Waal . . . I'll head to Jonas's, maybe. He got a heap of rawhide strips in, fresh cured soft. Dyed every color you kin think on. I'll braid the colors for a reata. Had to wait 'til Mr. Dillon give me ma pay," Chester chatted.

"Uh-huh," said Moss, nodding. "We can play checkers when things slow up more."

On the way to Jonas's store, Chester ambled despite the cold, feeling aimless. He imagined a bunch of red, yellow, green, blue and black strips, and some brown wound in, with the rich ripe scent of damp cowhide clinging to them, snaked into a box.

He anticipated braiding the strips, satiny round his fingers, which made him think of a dry, white-hot sun hanging low over sandy mounds and cactus. He'd traveled once to Tucson, and wanted to see California desert country, where the air warmed at midday even in winter.

A labored activity, orderly and oppressive, crowded Dodge City's Front Street, with none of its past wildness, no menacing thrill in the biting air, and nothing to look forward to. Principled lawman that he was, Mr. Dillon had wiped that all away.

Kitty was in the store when Chester walked in, her back to the doors, looking at men's ties while Jonas hovered near.

It seemed to Chester a creeping long spell since the mere sight of Miss Kitty lifted his spirits. She entertained all winter, and when not keeping company with friends, she was with Mr. Dillon, just the two of them. They went to nicer restaurants than Delmonico's, to sociables and the Variety Theatre, on buggy rides, and spent hours locked in Miss Kitty's room at the Long Branch.

"We're a couple of lonely bachelors, now, Chester," Doc told him, in passing. Doc said only a few words these days, always in passing on the street, as folks were catching pneumonia. Doc said it was contagious.

"I'm afraid Kitty's forgotten us," Doc lamented.

A feeling like a rock dropping in his gut gripped Chester. A shade veiled his eyes, and his breath caught.

"Oh, for heaven sakes, Chester," said Doc, dismayed at the affect of his words. "She hasn't really _forgotten_ us. I . . . I mean she's busy with her friends. Especially Matt. Kitty and Matt are at a crossroads." Doc thoughtfully rubbed his chin, then frowned. "My worry is the road will circle back to where they started, if Matt has anything to do with it. Kitty thinks they're _going_ somewhere. Matt's only having the time of his life hoggin' her all to himself."

"At a roads crossin', Doc?" Chester said faintly, looking befuddled.

"Oh, never mind," Doc soothed, patting Chester's arm.

As he gazed at the back of Miss Kitty's head, at her shining red hair fixed swirly, Chester stood just inside the doors to Jonas's store, thinking of that talk with Doc.

Jonas gave Chester a harried look. "Well, is it in or out, Chester," he said.

"I done closed the doors to keep the cold out, Jonas," Chester said sourly. "It ain't no skin offen yer nose."

"You're just standin' there," said Jonas. "You aim to buy something?"

Chester scowled. "I should oughter knowed better," he said darkly.

"What?" said Jonas.

"Oh, Chester," said Kitty, and feeling suddenly tickled, she giggled loudly before she could suppress it.

"Go ahead and laugh," Chester pouted.

"Well, I'm glad you're here, is all," said Kitty. He regarded her suspiciously. _"Really,"_ said Kitty. "I need your _help_. Oh, come here," she said, beckoning.

Chester moved to her. "You're powerful happy, Miss Kitty," he accused. "You and Mr. Dillon." He yanked off his hat.

"Well, you're in a fine mood," said Kitty. "Tell me what you think of this dark blue tie for Matt. We're eating at that fancy Greek place tonight."

"Jest one minute, please, Miss Kitty," said Chester. "I should oughter knowed I couldn't talk neighborly with you, Jonas."

"Talk neighborly," said Jonas.

"I got my pay for the hide pieces to braid me a reata. I thought we could chat whilst I picked them out and you boxed 'em."

"Now, Chester, you know you can chat with me any time," said Jonas. "I got a big pile of fresh strips, every color on earth, just about. So fresh they're 'bout wet off the haunch. Let's help Miss Kitty with a new tie for the marshal, and I'll find a new box for your strips."

"Well, alright," said Chester. The soreness knotting his chest began to unravel as Kitty smiled at him, her blue eyes twinkling.

"Do you like this tie?" she said.

Chester glanced at it. "It's nice," he said.

" _Nice,"_ said Jonas. "There's none better for sale anywhere."

"Do you think Matt will like it?" said Kitty. "He should wear ties colored besides black."

"Why," said Chester.

"Well . . . ." said Kitty. "Oh, never mind, Chester. I'll take it, Jonas."

"Very good," said Jonas. "I'll wrap it."

Chester saw Miss Kitty slipping away from him. Her face closed him out, making the sore knot in his chest tighten again.

"Your hide strips, Chester?" said Jonas. "Would you like me to choose them for you? All the colors, black and brown, too?"

"Many as fit in a box this big, Jonas." Chester held up his hands, measuring a space the length of his boot and half as high.

"Be right back," said Jonas. "They're in the storeroom."

As he'd done at Grimmick's livery, Chester moved close to the stove and warmed his hands. He was always cold to the bone these days.

Holding the new tie in its paper wrapping tied with string, Kitty followed Chester to the stove, and he thought of Madelyn Whitaker standing by him at Moss's stable. By far the prettier woman and perkier than Miss Madelyn, Miss Kitty's dresses were finer and brighter.

Although in fairness, Miss Madelyn was older, and not a moneyed lady. Ma Smalley said Miss Madelyn's father owned a Chicago iron mill, which she sold when he died, and she lived modestly so her inheritance would support her all her days.

Ma said Miss Madelyn only ever had one beau, a Chicago attorney named Victor Haley, who twenty years ago had married a beautiful socialite. She'd died of consumption this yuletide, and Mr. Haley started corresponding with Miss Madelyn. They exchanged tintypes of their likenesses through the post, and Mr. Haley pondered journeying to Dodge to marry Miss Madelyn and fetch her back to Chicago.

If Chester proposed to her, he wondered if she'd marry him. He knew Miss Madelyn took a shine to him.

"Doc said I was makin' you droopy," said Kitty.

"Droopy?" said Chester, vaguely.

"He said I wasn't spendin' enough time with you," said Kitty. "Chester, Matt and I are workin' things out between us, so we need to be just the two of us together a lot. I hope you understand."

Chester regarded her, his soulful brown eyes earnest. "Miss Kitty," he said, "d'you think a lady like Miss Madelyn would like California?"

"Miss Madelyn," said Kitty. "Madelyn Whitaker?"

"If a feller married her," said Chester. "D'you figure she'd wanna move ta California, maybe?"

" _Married_ her," said Kitty. "You haven't even courted her, have you?"

"She likes me," said Chester. "Thought I could pass courtin' and jest ask her."

"Well, Chester, I don't know," said Kitty. "It doesn't look to me like you love Madelyn. She's not the kinda woman to interest you, seems to me."

"The lovin' might follow right along."

"Chester, does this have anything to do with you and me not keeping company much?" Confused, he gazed at her. "Could be you're just lonely," said Kitty. "Why don't you try bein' friends with Madelyn, first."

"Here we are, Chester," said Jonas, setting a red-cedar box on the counter.

Chester paid for the rawhide, and walked with Miss Kitty to the marshal's office. She had a musing look, as though carried off by pleasant fancies, like Chester wasn't there beside her.

He opened the door for her to step in ahead of him, and to his eyes it appeared she swept inside, almost theatrical-like. Miss Kitty usually didn't sweep at all. "Hello, Matt," she said, singsong.

The marshal looked up from organizing paper sheets, covered in his careful neat script and laid out to dry the ink. "Hello, Kitty," he said, smiling wide. He pushed back his chair and rose, moving from behind his desk to stand close in front of her.

Chester slammed the door, and Kitty startled. "Gracious, I apologize, Miss Kitty," he said. "I ain't aimed to close it that hard, honest."

"Chester," said Matt. "Got the hide for your reata, did ya?"

"Jonas give me a lot more'n what I paid for," said Chester. "In colors like a snaky rainbow. You kin braid some too, if ya want, Mr. Dillon. I calculate you won't have time, though, keepin' company with Miss Kitty the day and night long."

"You been talkin' ta Doc?" said Matt.

"It don't take talkin' ta Doc to see it, Mr. Dillon," said Chester, thudding his box on the table. He moved to the door, wanting to escape before the marshal and Kitty started staring into each other's eyes and talking serious, making Chester feel like a chair at the table. He'd get a beer at the Long Branch. Maybe Sam would have a quick minute to chat.

"Easy with the door on your way out," said Matt. "We don't want any shattered windowpanes." It needed saying, although the marshal knew his partner was het up, as Chester at times tended to throw or bang anything at hand when his friends displeased him. He'd been out of sorts off and on since Christmas season ended.

"Yeah, well," said Chester. His hand on the knob, he remembered he'd spent his pay on the hide pieces, and he looked back at Matt.

"What is it, Chester," said Matt.

"D'you have ten cent for a beer, Mr. Dillon? I done used up ma pay on the rawhide." Matt reached in his pocket and pulled out a dime.

"Thank you," said Chester. He went out, softly closing the door.

The marshal put his arm around Kitty. "I'd think he was jealous if I didn't know better," said Matt.

"I think he's lonely," said Kitty. "Doc said I wasn't showing him any attention, Matt."

"Well, we can't have _that_ ," said Matt.

"I know," said Kitty. "We'll haveta make more time for 'im."

Matt took her gloved hands, and his fingers closed around the paper wrapping. "What's this?" he said.

"It's for you," said Kitty. "I got to worryin' about Chester, and forgot I was holding it."

"I don't want you spendin' money on me, Kitty," said Matt. "It was alright for Christmas, but—"

"It's just a little something," said Kitty. "For me more than you. I want you to wear it tonight. Open it," she said, when Matt looked at her.

He puffed a sigh, pulled the string, and unfolded the paper. "I have a tie, Kitty," said Matt.

"You have one black tie. That one's dark blue."

"My black tie's in good shape," said Matt.

"Oh come on, Matt," said Kitty. "This'll look nice on you. It sets off your eyes."

"My eyes are _light_ blue."

"Matt. It won't hurt you to wear a new tie."

"I know it won't hurt me, Kitty; I just don't need—" Seeing her mouth tighten and her chin set, Matt sighed again. "I'll wear it," he said.

Kitty smiled, wrapped her arms around him, and lifted her face expectantly. They kissed long, tenderly yet fervent. Tempted to lose herself in giddy happiness, she restrained her feelings, as she'd done all winter, sensing that Matt enjoyed himself, and nothing more. Kitty would make the most of it while it lasted, before the cattle drives started again come spring, and the outlaws crawled out of their dens.

Not halfway to the Long Branch, Chester wished he'd warmed himself at the stove before heading back out, though the marshal's office was always well-heated in winter. They kept the fire burning throughout the season. Chester's teeth chattered, his bones ached and the icy air hurt his chest.

His breath came fast by the time he reached the Long Branch. He felt an urge to draw a deep lungful of air, but couldn't, and the effort made his chest hurt worse.

He saw straightaway that Sam was too busy to chat, as men crowded the Long Branch. Chester would have a beer, and walk to Ma Smalley's to visit Miss Madelyn before dinnertime. She'd ride back to town by then. He shouldered in between two men at the bar.

"What'll it be, Chester," said Sam.

"I'll have a beer, Sam," said Chester. A burst of wet coughing shook him.

"Here, get your carcass outa 'ere," growled the man standing next to him. "It's catchin'."

Suddenly hot and thirsty, Chester picked up his beer and moved to a table near the batwings. He took off his coat, gulped from the mug, and coughed again, sharp pain stabbing his chest. He gasped in a breath, then took a long drink. The beer ran hot through his chest and belly, and he felt better.

A soft hand touched the back of his neck, and a gal leaned over him. "Sorry to disturb you, but you'd best leave," she said. "That brute at the bar's talkin' 'bout throwin' you out."

Chester looked into her eyes, and she smiled. "Don't you work for the marshal?" she said. He nodded, touched his hat brim, drained his mug, and coughed some more. "You're sick, honey," she said. "You oughtn't be settin' in the chill."

"I guess . . . I better be goin', then," said Chester, with a slight smile in return. Though he thought maybe he was fevered, the warmth he felt inside at the moment came from the gal. She strengthened his limbs and cleaned the muddiness from his head.

A brisk wind kicked up outside, setting the batwings to swinging. The gal helped Chester put on and button his coat. He'd figured on heading to Doc's, but the beer and the gal had mended Chester a sight, heartening him enough to walk to Ma Smalley's and chat with Miss Madelyn.

He felt draggy and cold again when he arrived at Ma's. The parlor smelled of rabbit stew, and he wondered why he didn't feel hungry. He went to the kitchen, where Ma was shaping rolls for baking.

"Oh, hello, Chester," said Ma. "You here for some supper, are you? It'll be most two hours yet."

"Ma," said Chester. "Is Miss Madelyn come in from her ride?"

"Yes," said Ma. "Only just. I fixed her tea. Her room's right 'round the corner there. I don't s'pose you want tea. You look like you need something hot, Chester. Coffee?"

"Thank you," said Chester. " 'Tis bitter cold out."

Sipping coffee, he knocked on Madelyn's room door. _"Chester,"_ she said, her face alight and her pale brown eyes shining so she looked almost pretty. "You've come to see me. Sit down."

Chester sat in a velvety chair at a small round table with a lace-covered cloth. "You look tired," said Madelyn. "You're not unwell, are you? The pneumonia, seems the whole town's stricken."

Chester wondered if he was stricken. Sharp pains shot through his chest again, and he felt stiff and sore. Maybe, after all, he should see Doc. "I was feelin' some better after I had a beer to the Long Branch," said Chester. "Ah'm a little poorly, now, though."

"Oh, no," said Madelyn. "That's how it starts, you know. Folks can scarce tell they're sick. I'm happy to have you call, but you shouldn't be up and about in this weather, Chester. It's a shame you have to sleep at the marshal's office; that can't be comfortable."

"It does tolerable," said Chester. "I guess I'm used to it."

"Well, I don't want to hurry you out," said Madelyn, "but you really aren't looking well at all, Chester. It's getting even colder with night coming on, soon. You should have the marshal send for Doc."

"Mr. Dillon's dining with Miss Kitty. Don't worry 'bout me, Miss Madelyn. I need ta rest a spell, is all," said Chester, as she walked with him through the parlor.

A coughing fit doubled him over at the door. "Oh . . . my goodness," said Madelyn, laying her hand on his back.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Chester's taken, Ma," said Madelyn, as Ma came out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. "I'm walking him to Doc's."

"Don't trouble yerself, Miss Madelyn," said Chester. "I'll make it alright."

"Now, don't you tire out, arguing it, Chester," said Ma. "Let Madelyn go with you."

"I'll just run fetch my cape," said Madelyn.

Chester limped slowly as they walked, pausing every minute or so as coughing made him breathless. "You lean on me," said Madelyn, putting her arms around him.

"I'm too much a weight ," he said.

"No such thing," said Madelyn. "I'm a lot stronger than I look." Chester liked feeling her arms around him, her slender body pressed against his.

Mr. Dillon had lighted the lamp in the marshal's office, and Chester looked through the window as he and Madelyn passed. The marshal had left for his night out with Miss Kitty. Chester saw his box of rawhide strips where he'd left it on the table, and stopped.

"What is it?" said Madelyn. "Oh, dear, I hope you're not going to faint away."

"Forevermore, I'm nowheres close to faintin' away, Miss Madelyn," said Chester. "I jest want my box of hide pieces offen the table."

"Your hide pieces?" said Madelyn.

"Yes, ma'am. Fer braidin' up ta Doc's. He's like to make me sleep the night at his office, so's I don't haveta go back out in the cold, and I need somewhat to do so the time don't pass too wearisome in bed."

They went inside and warmed themselves a moment at the stove. Chester picked up the box and hugged it against his coat as they headed to Doc's.

Doc looked up from his desk when they came in, shook his head and rose from his chair. "You got it, Chester, by thunder," said Doc. "I was afraid of this. You been lookin' peaked for days. Hello, Madelyn."

"Hello, Doc," said Madelyn. "I'll help tend him."

"It come on me sudden on my way to the Long Branch, Doc," said Chester.

"Set on the lounge, there," said Doc. "What's in the box?"

"Rawhide strips," said Chester. "For braidin' a reata to pass the time, if I have to stay the night." A burst of coughing wracked him.

"You'll stay longer than that," said Doc. "A few days, at the least. You're too sick to go out again in this weather awhile."

Doc took the box from Chester and helped him out of his coat. "Lie back and relax," said Doc.

Looking from Doc to Miss Madelyn, Chester lay down and sighed, and the tense empty feeling that twisted him inside most of the season wafted away like snowflakes on the wind. He wanted Miss Kitty near, but he didn't fret. He knew she'd come and keep him company now that he was sick.

Doc said there wasn't much treatment for pneumonia except bed rest, chicken soup, hot toddies, and tonic to clean the blood. Madelyn went out to order a pot of soup from Delmonico's, while Doc heated a toddy of brandy, honey and lemon juice, and rubbed peppermint camphor on his patient's chest.

As Matt and Kitty ate a delicious main course of lamb roasted with herbs, mashed turnips, and tomatoes coated with egg and flour and fried in olive oil, Kitty's pragmatic forthrightness abruptly overcame her. She was living a dream with Matt, and dreams always ended when one woke up to the harsh light of morning with the day's cares.

The time had passed in their new courtship for Matt to declare his intentions, if he had any. Kitty knew it was proper for gentlemen to speak first of such things to ladies, but she could hardly in honesty call herself a lady, though she acted like one most of the time, unless provoked.

"So, where is all this leading, Matt." Kitty forked a chunk of lamb and a tomato slice, chewing while she awaited his answer.

"Where's all what leading," said Matt.

"You know." Kitty took a bite of flatbread. "The theatricals, the sociables, the buggy rides, the nice restaurants," she said around the mouthful. "The good times in my room." She took a big swallow of wine. "What's next?"

"Well, we're already doin' everything I can think of," said Matt. "Everything I can afford, that is."

"Matt." Kitty clanged her fork on the plate. "I'm asking if you intend to propose, and don't say maybe sometime beyond the distant horizon. I'm talkin' about soon."

"I never said anything about proposing, Kitty," said Matt, in that defensive, resentful way he had, that made her dander heat up. "And you never asked me about it, either."

"I'm askin' ya now."

"What are you temperin' for," said Matt.

"Matt, I just want you to answer me," Kitty said reasonably, her tone softening. "That's only fair."

"Kitty, I'm not asking you to marry me now, or anytime soon. And as for a long time from now, I don't think that far ahead, on account of the badge. Being a U.S. marshal sucks up everything in me, every day, leaving nothing for marriage. That doesn't mean I don't like being with you." Matt lowered his voice to a near whisper and leaned across the table, close to Kitty's face. "I'm not courting you so you'll let me share your bed," he said. "I'd rather be with you, talk to you, than any woman. I hope you understand."

Kitty nodded. "You explained it all, clear and honest as daylight, like you always explain things. I think I knew how it was before I asked, Matt. Years before."

Matt took her small soft hand. "Maybe you just needed to hear me say it," he said.

Kitty felt unsettled, and a bit dejected. She wanted to hear Matt say something else, but had the sense not to delude herself into believing he would.

The theatrical with Kitty and Matt as players ended that night, and Kitty had taken her bow. If Matt had not, that was his affair. He'd awakened her from her dream of keeping house as Mrs. Kathleen Dillon, Mrs. Matthew Dillon, bearing their children, and enjoying a level of respectability that Dodge would never grant her as Miss Kitty Russell, saloon proprietress.

They were quiet on the walk to the Long Branch, and Matt came inside for a beer. If he asked to spend the night, she'd say no. Though she wanted him, Kitty was careful about marking her monthly times, and knew it would show up in two or three days. She knew Matt would marry her without hesitation if she was with child. He was too honorable not to, and she couldn't bring herself to force him to it. Matt was too good for that.

Sam looked sober, like he had something to tell them. "What is it, Sam?" said Kitty, as he set a beer on the bar in front of Matt, and a cup of hot cider for Kitty.

"Chester's down with the pneumonia," said Sam. "Miss Madelyn Whitaker sent a gent in to give me the news, and asked me to let you know, Marshal. Chester's at Doc's."

"Oh, no, Matt," said Kitty. "I knew there was something wrong with him, earlier. He seemed so tired, and . . . glum."

"I thought he was just feelin' left out," said Matt. "He gets that way sometime. Looked paler than usual, but we're all pale this time of year."

Kitty took Matt's arm. "Come on, Matt," she said. "Let's go see 'im. I'll let you know how he's doin', Sam."

Chester was warmed through after chicken soup and a hot toddy. He reclined on Doc's lounge and braided rawhide pieces with Miss Madelyn, who sat beside Chester. It pleased him to watch her long slender fingers twining gracefully round the colored strips, and he liked how she paused to smile into his eyes every little while.

Although his bones hurt, just lying still winded him, and pains stabbed his chest, Chester felt in high spirits, especially anticipating Miss Kitty. She wouldn't give him a fading away feeling by looking like she was elsewhere anymore. She'd pay him particular attentions and smile at him as Miss Madelyn did now, except Miss Kitty's eyes were a beautiful lively blue and larger than Miss Madelyn's, whose eyes were small. Miss Kitty could cure a body and make him sure of himself simply by looking at him.

The marshal and Kitty were climbing the stairs to Doc's rooms now, the measured tread of Matt's boots in company with Kitty's little pattering ties, their voices mingled in conversation.

"Miss Kitty's a comin', Doc," said Chester. "And Mr. Dillon."

"I hear 'em, Chester," said Doc.

Matt opened the door, and Kitty hurried in first. Chester looked at them, his hands sunk into a mound of colorful tangled strips. They all spoke at once, with the almost frenzied talk of friends gathered over trouble, drawing Madelyn in with them, because as all of Dodge knew, she was kind, and she cared for Chester.

Matt, Kitty and Doc talked to Chester more than to one another, and glanced intently at him when talking to each other. They made him swimmy-headed, and curiously happy in a way that made his mind skitter like a loco colt.

Chester dumped his hide pieces in the box on the floor by the lounge, and threw off the blankets. "You need the blankets on, Chester," Madelyn fussed, trying to cover him.

He resisted, pushing the bedclothes off. "I'm hot, Doc," said Chester, tossing. "I wanna cold bath."

"Good heavens," said Madelyn. "That'd finish you."

Doc felt Chester's forehead and face, and slipped a thermometer under his tongue. "You're fevered, Chester," said Doc. "You couldn't stand a cold bath now. Not with pneumonia. A cool sponge, some cold drinkin' water 'll make you better."

"I'm parched, powerful," said Chester. "I'm shrivelin', Doc."

"No, you're not," said Doc. "You're too young and strong to shrivel." Kitty filled the water pitcher and a basin, and rolled her sleeves above the elbows.

"You let me sponge him, Kitty," said Madelyn. "You don't want to stain that lovely dress."

"It's a woolen," said Kitty. "And this is just water."

"Nevertheless," said Madelyn. "It's too fine a dress for nursing. My old wool skirt and cotton blouse, it won't make a difference."

Kitty filled a cup with water and handed it to Chester, who guzzled it dry, dripping it on his face and neck. "By golly, that feels good," he gasped. "That does cool the fire. More, please."

Kitty wrapped her fingers around his hand holding the cup, steadying his hand, and filled the cup again. Chester gulped the water, pausing twice to cough. "One more," he said.

"Isn't that too much?" said Madelyn.

"No, it's good for him," said Doc. "What he needs."

Kitty steadied Chester's hand again, and poured water to the brim. He blinked, calculating, then sat up, eyeing the full basin of cold water on a stand next to his elbow. There was more than one way for a body to get what he needed, and Chester felt strong enough to do it.

"Mr. Dillon," he said, drinking the water, "would you move my box of hide strips, please, so as they won't get soiled?"

"Sure," said Matt. He picked up the box and moved it to Doc's desk. Matt figured he knew what Chester had in mind.

"What's funny, Marshal?" said Madelyn, smiling. "I could use a good joke."

"Maybe you're about to see one, Miss Madelyn," said Matt.

Madelyn frowned, and looked at Chester. His normally ingenuous face wore a sly look that amused and concerned her at the same time.

Doc put his hands in his pockets, watching Chester with detached interest. There were differing medical opinions regarding the benefits and dangers of cold water immersion for fever with pneumonia. Doc had read in a newly published text that patients sometimes knew instinctively what their bodies needed, and Chester was young, with a constitution healthy enough to risk it.

Chester looked into Miss Kitty's eyes, like the sun bright behind a cloudless summer sky. Kitty smiled mischievously at him, and winked.

Chester handed his empty cup to Madelyn, then quickly picked up the basin and dumped the cold water over his head, splashing Kitty and Madelyn and soaking Doc's lounge.

"Oh, my goodness," said Madelyn, jumping up from her chair.

"I got ma bath," said Chester. He leaned over, coughing. "You shouldn't a let me do it, Doc," he rasped. "It's like knives scraping in my chest."

"Now, how was I supposed to know you'd do that, Chester," said Doc.

"You knew," said Chester. "I could tell."

"Well, maybe I did," said Doc. "I might've made a mistake, though. We'll have to get you off that lounge, into something dry and to bed. You gonna help out here, Matt, or stand there grinning? We need to move fast."

Five minutes later, Chester was clad in a dry union suit and sitting in Doc's bed, sipping a toddy while Madelyn rubbed his head with a towel. "We were quick, Doc," said Matt. "Did that dousing hurt 'im?"

"I shouldn't think so. He's no worse off, anyway, and his temperature's down.

"Madelyn, why don't you pour yourself some coffee and dry off by the stove, like Kitty's doin'? We don't want you down sick, too," said Doc.

"I'm no end sorry for wettin' you and Miss Kitty, Miss Madelyn," said Chester. "I was so burnin' hot, I couldn't think on nothin' but coolin'."

"Oh, don't worry a minute, Chester," said Madelyn. "It's just a little water. I'll be dry in no time."

"Where'll you sleep, Doc?" said Chester. "The lounge is wet."

"On the table," said Doc.

"The table ain't comfortable for sleepin'," said Chester.

"It's comfortable enough for me," said Doc. "I can sleep anywhere."

"Doc, I think me and Kitty and Miss Madelyn should say goodnight, so Chester can sleep," said Matt.

"I'm eased in ma mind to be home, Mr. Dillon," Chester said drowsily. "Like summertime comin'. I won't head out to California awhile yet, maybe, seein' as ah'm jest home. I'll rest some, first."

"Alright, Chester," said Matt. Chester's eyes closed.

"What does all that mean, Doc," said the marshal, in a hushed tone. "About bein' home and goin' to California, and summertime."

"No cause for alarm, Matt," said Doc, in the same quiet tone. "That's just . . . Chester."

Chester stayed a week in Doc's rooms, as Doc said the weather was too cold to take the short walk to the marshal's office. Chester thought if he ever came to love Miss Madelyn, it would happen then, while he was sick and she nursed him.

Though he liked her and her company, he didn't miss her when she left Doc's each night for her room at Ma Smalley's, and Chester didn't think about her much, or with any strong feeling when she wasn't with him. He had no desire to hold or kiss Miss Madelyn, or even hold her hand. He felt grateful, and had a mild sentiment toward her, and that was all.

On the day Doc said that Chester could walk to the marshal's office the next morning, Madelyn gave him a sad smile. Chester was up and dressed, and they sat braiding rawhide, using Doc's desk as a table.

"You needn't worry about me, Chester," said Madelyn. "I know you don't love me, and I've settled it with myself. We're friends, right?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Chester. "You're as fine a friend as any I had all my days, Miss Madelyn. None could be better."

"You're so sweet," said Madelyn. She touched her palm to his face.

"It's truth, is all," said Chester.

They heard bootsteps on the stairs. "Is Doc coming back from his calls, already?" said Madelyn. "Why, he only just left."

"It ain't Doc, whoever it is," said Chester. "Doc's steps is different from them."

The door opened, and a gentleman stepped in. Madelyn gasped and clapped her hands to her face, letting a length of colored braid fall to the floor. The gentleman removed his hat, beaming at her.

" _Victor,"_ Madelyn whispered.

"Hello, Madelyn," he said. "It's been twenty years, but I've finally come to claim you, if you'll have me."

"Oh, Victor," she said. "Oh, my goodness." Madelyn ran to him, and they embraced.

"I had a time finding you," said Victor. "Mrs. Smalley said you were nursing a man at the doctor's office. She said the man's name. I forget."

"That's me," said Chester, standing up. "I'm most well. Chester Goode's the name."

"Victor Haley. I take it Madelyn told you about me?" said Victor, keeping his arm around Madelyn.

"Miss Madelyn said you're a widower never betrothed to her," said Chester.

"But Madelyn and I had an understanding since my wife died," said Victor. "I was her beau, you see, before I married my wife."

"Miss Madelyn spoke of it," said Chester. "Miss Madelyn's a lady, Mr. Haley."

"I trust . . . you so treated her, while she . . . nursed you," said Victor.

"I did," said Chester.

"Chester's a gentleman, Victor," said Madelyn. "And a friend. And yes, I'll have you," she said, smiling into his handsome face. They kissed, and Chester felt his face flush hot.

"Let's find the parson," said Victor. "Then we'll leave for Chicago today, if that's alright with you, my love."

"Oh . . . my, well, _yes_ , I suppose so," said Madelyn. "Good heavens, this is all happening so fast."

She moved to Chester. "I had a little talk with Kitty, Chester, just us two," said Madelyn. "When you were bedridden. I said it wasn't just the contagion. You got lonesome, and that made you poorly. Kitty said she'd tell the marshal and Doc, and they'd try and remember to make time for you."

" _Oh,"_ said Chester, "it ain't that I'm not obliged to you, Miss Madelyn; I _am_. But my sickness warn't Miss Kitty's fault at all, nor Mr. Dillon's or Doc's. I've always been a _mite_ lonely."

"You're a loyal friend to them, Chester," said Madelyn. She took his hand. "If they're ever real busy again, and you get too lonely, it might be time to move to California. Pull up your stakes and make a fresh start."

"I'll keep that ta mind, Miss Madelyn," said Chester. She pressed his fingers, then turned and followed Victor out the door.

Alone in Doc's office, Chester felt untroubled and easy. He thought on Miss Madelyn's words, which brought to mind bright prints and tintypes of mountains, a forest of trees as tall as the sky, a desert with flowering plants and cactus, and a quiet crystal-blue sea. Chester sat at the desk, picked up his rawhide and started braiding. He hummed a tune, making it up as he went along.


End file.
